


Mess Is Mine

by micwriteshere



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alexandria Safe-Zone, Apocalypse, Arguing, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Rick, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sex, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Walkers (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micwriteshere/pseuds/micwriteshere
Summary: Since entering Alexandria, life had been better than it had in a while. Your job was to watch Judith while Rick was away, which was often, and you got to live in a beautiful house with the same luxuries you had in the old world. But after The Saviors wreak havoc on your group, and Rick becomes more broken, everything begins to change.





	1. Broken

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii! my first Rick Grimes fic! this is based off of season 7, but things will not always be 100% accurate to the show. I will take this in my own direction and use some of the TV show plot to guide me there. I hope you enjoy! xo

The streets of Alexandria were more empty than you've ever seen them, most of your group out doing various things. They had been gone for almost 24 hours now, and you were a bit concerned, but knew Rick could handle anything that was thrown at them. He always did.

He had saved you a few months ago, after finding you all alone. You were introduced to his kids, and he allowed you to live with him, acting as Judith's caretaker. It was a great gig, you got to stay in a beautiful house, sleep on a comfortable bed, and take hot showers. Rick was often on missions of some sort, giving you run of the house. 

You sigh as you look at the notebook that you had brought with you when the world went to shit. You used it to track the days, write down lists, and create poetry. Today was your birthday, the third one since everything changed. Although you hated the idea that you were getting older, and that so much time was passing, being 23 wasn't too bad. 

Judith's tears interrupted you from your thoughts. Striding across the room, you scoop up the whining child and place her on your hip. 

"Who wants some lunch?" you ask, knowing the almost 2 year old is incapable of words. It wasn't rare for you to talk to her when nobody is around. It gets damn lonely in the house, with no cell phones or television anymore. This baby was the closest thing you had to a friend around, as sad as that may be. 

Grabbing the applesauce, you placed Judith in her high chair and sat down in front of her. The airplane method was the only thing that worked to get her to eat, and her innocent laughter with each swoop of the spoon brought a smile to your face. Just as you were about to give her another bite, the door opened. 

The mood shifted instantly, your heart dropping as Rick and Carl walk in, looking more defeated than you had ever seen. Rick's face was covered in blood, his hair soaked in sweat. His blue eyes were lifeless, not too different from the corpses that roamed the streets. Carl was shaky, the young boy had clearly seen more than he wanted to. 

"What happened?" you ask delicately, knowing there was no good answer. "Rick, sit down." 

He ignored you, walking towards the stairs. It was as if he hadn't even heard you, he was too wrapped up in his own mind to process anything. Carl took a seat next to you, taking his hat off and running a hand through his long hair. 

"It's bad," he explained, voice raspy. "It was the worst thing I've ever seen. He's a monster." 

"Who?" you turn, assuming this had something to do with The Saviors. "What happened out there, Carl?" 

"Leader of the Saviors," Carl responded. You could tell he was reliving the night's events in his head. "He killed them and took Daryl. Almost made my dad cut my hand off. Y/N, I've never seen anything like this. He broke us all. I thought we were strong but he's stronger." 

"Carl," you inhale sharply, not prepared for the answer. "Who did he kill?" 

"Glenn and Abraham," his response was monotone. "Bashed their skulls in. Maggie's a mess, she went to Hilltop." 

You felt your heart break in half with the news that you had lost two members of your family. They were such good people, they didn't deserve to die. Especially in such a barbaric way. 

"I'm going to bed," Carl sighed. "Can you check on my dad in a little bit?" 

Nodding, you gave him a hug before he ascended up the staircase. Wiping your tears, you turn back to Judith, who was playing with a spoon, smiling widely. It was amazing to you that the world was ending, yet she was so innocent to it all. She was smiling and laughing and not suffering. It usually gave you a glimmer of hope, but today you were just jealous of her obliviousness. After all, ignorance is bliss. 

* * *

Turning off Judith's lamp, you give her a kiss on the forehead as she goes down for her nap. Silently, you make your way down the hall, pausing outside of Rick's room. You hoped he was asleep, dreaming of a world that is safe and happy. But it wasn't likely, not with Rick. He overthinks, and takes on the weight of the world. He'd been that way since you met him. 

You quietly open the door to his room, frowning when you see him laying there, staring at the ceiling. He had stripped his shirt off, but hadn't showered yet. His face was still covered in blood, but the red streaks down his cheek and the puffiness of his eyes alerted you that he had been crying again. 

"Rick?" you whisper, walking in slowly and closing the door behind you. When he doesn't respond, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry." 

"Why?" his voice is broken, more so than it had ever been. 

"I'm sorry that this happened," you frown as he avoids eye contact. "I'm sorry you're dealing with this. I wish I could do something." 

He doesn't respond, simply taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey he had been holding onto. You wince at the quantity he had just consumed, but said nothing, knowing he needed to numb his pain somehow. 

"I think if you get cleaned up you'll feel better," you stand up, going to run the shower. "Wash the last 24 hours off." 

To your surprise, Rick follows you into the bathroom that's attached to his room. His face is still full of heartbreak as he leans against the wall, bottle of whiskey still in his hand. As you signal the shower is ready, he begins to strip down. 

"I'll go get you clothes and leave them in here," you put a hand on his bare shoulder, your sympathetic eyes meeting his melancholic ones. "Just come out to your room when you're done." 

You walk out to his room, collecting some clothes. Settling on a simple white tee and a pair of boxers, you bring them back into the bathroom, where the mirror is now fogged up. As you hear Rick's muffled sobs through the hot water, you can feel your heart breaking more than before. He was such a good person, such a great leader. He didn't deserve this, you think to yourself as you head back into his room, plopping down in his bed. 

A few minutes later, Rick reemerges, face free of blood. He's stumbling slightly, likely a result of the whiskey. If it was any other day you would've been concerned, and said something. But today, you decided to let him cope however he needed to. 

"Thank you," he slurs as he flops onto the bed. You instinctively sit up, moving down to the end. "I needed a shower." 

"Good," you smile at him slightly, your heart breaking at the obvious despondency in his eyes. "Now get some sleep, you need it." 

He rolls onto his side, taking another sip from the bottle. You take the whiskey from his shaking hands, frowning at the broken man in front of you. 

"Rick," you sigh, placing the bottle on the nightstand. "You can't drink yourself dead. That's not going to help anyone." 

"You weren't there," he says, voice cold. "You don't get to tell me how to cope. You're just a damn babysitter." 

His words shouldn't have hurt you, but they did. You had spent months with his family; caring for his children as if they were your own, and forming a bond with him. The Grimes' were the closest thing you had to family lately. 

"Goodnight Rick." you say simply, standing up and heading for the door. Part of you knew he didn't mean it, he was just drunk and distraught. But his current state didn't make it hurt any less. 

"Y/N," he pleads. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please don't go." 

"What do you want me to do here, Rick?" 

"Stay," he pats the spot next to him in bed. You lay down, a bit uncomfortable. You had always been attracted to Rick, but knew it was inappropriate. Now, laying in his bed with him, your heart is beating a mile a minute. He scoots closer to you, his sad blue eyes meeting yours. "I couldn't do anything around here without you. You're not just a babysitter. You give me a piece of mind that Judith and Carl are going to be okay." 

"Rick," you twist your lips, something you did when you were nervous. "You're going to get everyone through this. You always do." 

"Never anything this bad," he muses, voice slushy from the alcohol. "He broke me. That son of a bitch was going to make me cut off my own son's hand. He's a monster, a goddamn monster. And he owns us all now." 

Tears dance around his eyes again. You had only seen Rick cry once before, when Carl lost an eye. He dealt with so much and kept it inside, something you were amazed with. His breathing was erratic as he tried to fight back his emotions. 

"Get some sleep," you sigh, wiping his tears with your thumbs. His eyes meet yours, silently thanking you. "Escape for a little bit." 

"Will you stay?" he asks, voice in a whisper. He was more vulnerable than you had ever seen him. So broken down that he wanted you to lay with him, despite the fact you had never had more contact than a hug. 

"Yeah," your mouth responds before your brain could even think about it. This seemed like a terrible idea considering your strong attraction to him. But he was emotionally beaten down, and you couldn't leave him in this fragile state. He's facing you, his eyes fluttering closed. There's a distance between you, but his hand is touching yours ever so slightly. As if he needs to have some sort of contact. He was still frowning, even with closed eyes. You sigh, wanting nothing more than to take away his pain. "Goodnight, Rick." 

He simply hums in response, his hand moving to lace his fingers with yours. 

 


	2. World Keeps Turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> grimeswritings.tumblr.com !! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy! comments are always appreciated x

A faint cry on the monitor stirred you from your midday nap. Thankfully, Rick didn't wake. He needed the sleep more than anyone. You smile, pushing his hand off of your stomach, where it had landed during your sleep. 

It was already dark out, meaning Judith was likely ready for dinner. You sigh as you creep out of the master bedroom, making your way to the nursery and scooping up the wailing baby. When you carried her down the stairs, Carl was already sitting at the kitchen table, poking his fork around a plate of potatoes. 

"I can make you something better," you interrupt his silence, causing him to look up at you. "I was going to give Judith pasta." 

"Not hungry." 

"Carl," placing the baby down on his lap, you prepare her highchair. "Do you want to talk about it? I'm here for you." 

"I'm fine. I really am," you could tell he wasn't entirely sure of this statement, but allowed him to continue. "I survived. It's not me who I'm worried about, Y/N. It's my dad. They took everything he worked for, killed members of our family, and broke him. We've been through so much. So much. Yet somehow, I've never seen him like this. This weak and powerless." 

"I know you're worried," you place Judith in the chair, heading over to the stove to begin boiling water. "I am too. But you need to trust me when I say he'll fight back. He just needs time to process all of this." 

"I hope you're right," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "My mom would know what to do. She'd know how to get him out of this." 

No words seem appropriate as the teenage boy is on the verge of tears. You simply rush over to him, engulfing him in your arms. He hugged you back, sobbing into your shoulder. 

"I know," you soothe him, rubbing up and down his back like your mother used to when you were upset. "I know, you wish she was here and here's nothing I can say to make that pain better." 

"Y/N," Carl releases you, looking at you with a tear soaked face. "You're the closest thing I have to a mother figure right now. You're the only mother figure Judith knows. I know I'm grown and can take care of myself but it's nice to have you around. So thank you for that." 

"I love you and Judith like you're my own," you kiss his forehead, standing and heading to the pot of boiling water. "I'd do anything for you two. Which is why I won't let you starve. You're eating this pasta, boy." 

"I get it now," he says to himself. You raise an eyebrow quizzically, but when he shakes his head, you decide to drop it and focus on the task at hand. Stirring the pasta, you hum to yourself as Carl plays peekaboo with Judith.

"What's cookin'?" Rick's voice startled you. He looked more well rested, but there was still something broken in his eyes. 

"Uh," you stuttered, suddenly nervous in his presence. "Pasta. Want some?" 

"Sounds nice," he says softly, kissing Judith on the forehead and taking a seat next to her. "Thanks. For everything." 

You turn to him, nodding at his sentiment. As you drained the pasta, his words echoed in your head. They were so simple, yet so meaningful. Ignoring the thought, you served everyone, sitting down with them. The four of you sat around the table, eating silently. 

"This reminds me of when I was younger," Carl broke the silence, and Rick looked up at him, a slight smile on his face. "When you, me, and mom would sit around. Eating pasta because she forgot to go grocery shopping and that's all we had in the house." 

"She would always forget," Rick chuckles, and you can feel your heart swelling. Even if he was still hurting, there was a glimmer of hope in his laugh. "And then that one time we didn't have regular pasta, so she cooked and chopped up lasagna noodles." 

Carl smiles at his dad, taking a bite. The table falls silent again, the moment of joy over, and the weight of last night's events hanging over the two like a dark cloud. One that would stay with them for a long time to come. 

* * *

After you put Judith down for the night, you sat on the couch, reading a book you had found. It was your favorite as a teenager, Jane Austen never failing to make you swoon. 

"Pride and Prejudice, huh?" Rick took a seat next to you, a few inches separating you guys. "I hated that book in high school. It was the worst." 

"What don't you like about it?" you inquire, closing the book and crossing your legs, turning to face him. 

"Too much romance. I was a teenage boy, I couldn't care less about love and marriage and all of that crap."

"You still think it's crap?" you ask, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. 

"No," he looks down at the floor, running a hand through his hair. "I just did back then." 

Nodding, you decide to drop the subject, opening your book up again. The two of you sat in silence, your mind not even remotely focused on the words in front of you. Instead, all you could think of was the man next to you. Everything about him was alluring to you. Since the day you had met him, you'd been infatuated. His leadership skills, his compassion, his courage, his strength, his big heart, and it didn't hurt that he was beautiful to look at. 

When he had held your hand just hours ago, you felt electricity jolting through your veins. You felt your heart grow and your world stop turning. That moment, despite the fact that it was due to his vulnerability, meant everything to you. You loved him, _most ardently_. 

"I came down here to say something," his eyes didn't meet yours, they were moving around the room, and the once clear blue orbs were clouded with pain. "Let's forget about earlier. The whole laying down thing, and holding hands. I was vulnerable and I'm sorry that I put you in that position. It meant nothing." 

You shut the book slowly, looking up at him. Your heart felt like it was in your throat, threatening to spill out your declarations of affection. Instead, you swallowed hard and nodded. 

"Nothing," you repeated. "Right. It meant nothing here either. I was just trying to help." 

He nodded, eyes meeting yours for a split second before moving back down to the floor. 

"Alright," he shrugs, standing up. "I should go to bed. Gotta get up early tomorrow. After all, the world keeps turning." 

"It does," you nod. "Night, Rick." 

"Goodnight, Y/N."

He walks out of the room, inhaling sharply as he does. You sigh, fighting back tears. With him, the world had stopped and nothing else mattered. But without him, the world had to keep turning. 

 

 


End file.
